Choice

The air inside the car is stifling, the low hum of the engine doing little to drown out the storm of thoughts racing through my head. I lie there, strapped in, unable to move. My body refuses to obey me. Every inch of me hurts—my right side is numb, the wounds deep and raw. I can barely remember how I got here, but the overwhelming pain makes it impossible to forget the consequences of the battle, of the destruction I witnessed. The faces of my comrades, their last moments, replaying like a broken record, haunting every thought I try to focus on. My head pounds, but I can't bring myself to care. All that matters now is finding a way out of this.

My hands are tied, the ropes cutting into my flesh, each movement sending waves of agony through my body. I force my fingers to flex, trying to work the ropes loose, but the strength I once had is gone. The pain is relentless, and each failed attempt to break free only serves to remind me how powerless I’ve become. I grit my teeth and force myself to keep trying, but my efforts are futile. My arms feel heavy, useless. I’m no longer the soldier I once was.

I catch a glance of the the old man driving the car. He doesn’t look at me, his hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead. His silence unnerves me more than any words could. Who is this man? What does he want with me? Where is he taking me now? And how did he knock me out then?

My voice cracks as I shout, “Let me go! Who the hell are you? What have you done to me?” My chest is tight with fear and confusion. I try again to break free from the ropes, but I’m only met with the harsh sting of my injuries. Every movement is torture.

Still, the old man doesn’t answer. He continues driving, his face impassive, as though he hasn’t even heard me. The silence between us is maddening. How can he be so calm when everything is falling apart?

I try to push myself up, my body screaming in protest, and I almost manage to sit up before my head swims and I fall back against the seat. I can’t focus. Everything is spinning, but I won’t give up. I force my eyes open and catch a glimpse of him again. He’s still staring straight ahead, unfazed by my outbursts.

"Who are you?" I croak, my voice barely a whisper. "What’s going on? Where am I?"

"Can you please shut up for a moment? Are the soldiers nowadays not disciplined?" His words hurt as much as my wounds does. "Untie me now" I shout again, trying to mask my own shame. "So you can jump at this old,frail man and take his life for no actual reason? Thanks but I have to decline your offer." This guys humour really irritates me. At this point I really can't can kill him for these jokes. But I am currently powerless. All I can do is what this man makes me do.

The road stretches endlessly ahead, a dark and barren wasteland stretching out of sight. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving, or where we’re headed, but I can feel the pull of my exhaustion, my body begging me to give in, to let go. But I can’t. I can’t afford to. Not now. Not after everything.

The car comes to an abrupt stop, and I barely manage to brace myself before the vehicle lurches forward. My stomach twists, nausea rising in my throat as the car skids to a halt. The old man doesn’t seem to be affected by the sudden stop, but I can feel every inch of my body protesting.

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Without a word, he opens his door and steps out of the car. I barely have time to process what’s happening before he walks around and opens my door, dragging me out by the ropes binding me.

I gasp in pain as I’m roughly pulled from the car. “What the hell are you doing?” I spit, but my words come out weak and breathless. My legs feel like jelly, barely able to support me. I almost fall, but the old man holds me up with surprising strength.

“Are you trying to kill me, you senile bastard?” I manage to force out, though the words come more like a rasp than anything else. My chest is tight, and my vision is starting to blur again.

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he unbinds my legs. “I’m sure this much won’t kill you,” he says, his tone surprisingly light for the situation. "You were just jumping around the car”

The sarcasm doesn’t sit well with me. Anger flares up in my chest, mixing with the frustration of not being able to defend myself, of being so helpless. I want to snap at him, to demand answers, but the pain is too much. Every movement is agony, and I can’t even focus enough to form a coherent thought.

The old man lets go of my legs and steps back, watching me with a strange, almost amused expression.

“Get your feet under you,” he orders. “We’re not done here.”

We are now standing face to face. The expression on the person's face has changed completely. He looks like someone else entirely.

"Do you want to avenge your fallen friends?" He asks me with dead serious face.

“Ofc- "

But before I can even finish, the old man interrupts me. “Not so fast,” he says, his voice calm but carrying an edge. “If you try to take revenge, it will be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done—or can even imagine doing. There’s no guarantee that you’ll succeed. Death might knock at your door at any moment. And even if you do succeed, the people who are gone will not come back. You’ll have lost them forever.”

His words strike deep, the weight of his meaning sinking in. I’ve known the risks of this path, but hearing them laid out like that hits differently.

He pauses, letting the silence hang between us like a heavy curtain. The faces of my comrades flash before my eyes—their smiles, the camaraderie we shared, the trust we placed in one another. But as those images fade, the faces of my wife and daughter follow. Their eyes, their warmth, their love. Would I leave them behind if I walked this road? Would I ever get to hold them again, if I choose vengeance?

The old man continues, almost as though he can see the storm raging inside my mind. “If you choose the other path, you can live whatever is left of your life with the loved ones who are still alive. You’ll have the chance to build something again, even if it’s never the same.”

His words hang in the air like a noose, tightening around my chest. He’s giving me a choice, but it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. I can still see their faces, my friends—fighting for something greater, and failing. But then, I think of my family. What would they think if I throw my life away on revenge? What will happen to them if I disappear, consumed by the thirst for vengeance?

The old man watches me closely, his eyes studying me as if he knows exactly what I’m feeling. He nods once, as if he has said enough. “Looks like you’re finally putting some thought into it,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Take your time. Think carefully about what’s better for you.”

He turns to walk past me, giving me the space I need to think. And I do. I think of my comrades, how they trusted me, how I failed them. I think of the love I have for my family and the promises I’ve made to them. The anger inside me flares again—the desire to punish the man who took my friends from me, the need to make things right. But that desire is tangled with the fear of losing everything else. The old man’s words echo in my mind, reminding me of the cost.

After what feels like an eternity, I know what I need to do. I can’t walk away from this. My comrades deserve justice, and I’ll make sure that bastard pays. I’ll survive this, no matter the odds. And I’ll come back to my family, the ones who are still alive, the ones I promised to protect.

“I’ve decided,” I say, my voice steady. The old man stops dead in his tracks, his back to me.

“I will avenge my comrades,” I continue, “and I will live through it. I have my wife and daughter to take care of, after all.”

The old man doesn’t say anything right away. He just stands there, as though waiting for something, perhaps a confirmation in my voice.

"Is that so?" Then come with me, I know just how you can do it."

"But how?" I ask him,"And who are you?"

"You will understand how very soon, just put some faith in me."

"As for whom I am, I can't tell you my na- , actually a certain idiot calls me Mr. OM, so you too can call me that."

He says laughing as we get in the car and drive towards I don't know where.

-----------------------The End----------------------

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